


Early Sunsets Over Monroeville

by charmlesstrans (casketgowns)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Lindsey Bellato, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-binary Gerard Way, Trans Frank Iero, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casketgowns/pseuds/charmlesstrans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>---THIS STORY IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION---</p><p>When I first wrote this fic it was on a total whim and I didn't have anything planned at all for it. I still like the idea, but I have no plotline for it at all besides the fact that Frank and Gerard are both trans and that Gerard works at a record store and Frank works in a tattoo parlor. I would love to continue writing this fic, but I need to do some serious planning before I do. </p><p>When I eventually finish this story, I will change it from being chaptered, to being one long part (not sure how long yet, though). I WILL ALSO CHANGE THE TITLE because this one is not creative at all...so when I do get around to fixing this fic all up it will likely look like a totally different story. I know it's unprofessional of me, but it's what I have to do if I want it to be good.</p><p>Thank you for anyone who has read it so far and supports it! If you wish to read it now, feel free! But just remember that new content won't be added for a while and that it will have A NEW TITLE. Don't worry; It will still be the trans Frank fic that this world needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Black coffee and cigarettes with the morning sunrise. That was Frank's routine. Staring out of his dirty kitchen window at the grimy streets of his New Jersey hometown until his coffee was cold. Frank had made it a sort of habit without even meaning to. It's not like watching the bleak sun peak out from behind the dying trees was anything to look forward to. He didn't know why he did it every morning, probably because it was the only thing in his life that seemed stable. It was the one thing he could count on to always be there: the hazy sun casting questionable rays over the city of Monroeville. 

At least it was his day off. 

 _Not like that actually means much,_ he thought. 

No, days off from work often seemed even harder to bear. At least when he had work, it was something productive. It was something to actually _do._ He downed the rest of his coffee, and laid the cup on the counter beside the sink. No energy to rinse it. He never had the energy anyway. He donned his favorite tan cardigan and caught a glance of himself in the small mirror by his window. He looked decent for once. The effects of T finally seeming to work for him. His hair was being a pain though, as always. He messed with it in a half-hearted effort before giving up and walking out to the car. 

What was there to do on a day off from work? Frank's mood wasn't too erratic today. Maybe he could summon up the courage to go and buy groceries. He started the car. He made a mental list of things to buy. 

_Toothpaste_

_Lettuce_

_Hummus_

_Chicken - he would actually cook it this time instead of letting it rot away in the fridge for weeks_

_Cheese_

_Bread_

_Soymilk - no way was he going to let it spoil again_

_Apples_

He mapped out the plan in his mind. It wouldn't be like last time. He would go in, get his things, and leave. Then he would come home and put it all away. He would feel satisfied, proud of himself. No more nights with only stale granola bars. No, he was actually going to cook himself a real meal tonight. He painted the picture in his head as he drove. He would go to bed tonight full and happy.  

Yes, he could do it. 

He was coming up close to the intersection. He had to get into the left turn lane, and he knew it. He had done this dance a million times. A few times he had even managed to switch lanes. He hadn't gotten all the way to the store of course, but it was a step. 

He was going to do it. He flicked on his turn signal, he breathed in and out slowly. Was today really going to be the day? The first time in months that he was _actually_ going to buy groceries for himself? He could feel it, he really could.

Then his brain halted, convinced him otherwise. _Every time._

His shaky hands turned off the signal. He started to cry. He drove through the intersection with everything blurry and his bottom lip red with blood from where his teeth were digging holes.

\---

The tears had stopped. He was surprised they hadn't lasted longer, actually. But his emotions had always been unpredictable. At least by the time he had stopped crying, he had seen Racer Records on his right a little ways up the road. He almost thought he wouldn't have the energy to go in, and he didn't for a while. At least he pulled into the parking lot. 

Frank dug his cigarettes out of his cardigan pocket and sat on the curb, relieving tension with every slow drag. He may not have chicken for dinner tonight, but he certainly knew he would have cigarettes. He was always good about saving smokes. It came from practice when he was in high school. He always had to hide them, and wait for the right time to smoke them. He never got caught, and he'd been doing it since he was 16. A whole pack could last him a week or more. 

When he was finished, his cigarette smashed underneath the rubber sole of his Vans, he turned and walked into the store. Record stores used to make him nervous. When he was younger, and he first went into the one that was near his house, he felt like everything about him screamed "WRONG!" The moment he walked inside.

He had only been 14 at the time, and the first signs of dysphoria were bleeding out of him like stains on white pants. He thought everyone could tell, and they probably could. Either that or they just thought he was some chubby little lesbian whose parents let her get away with too much. The burly, bearded metalhead at the counter didn't make Frank feel any better either. He remembered taking a deep breath, and walking in. He remembered trying so hard to look like he knew what he was doing. He flipped through the used vinyl section with expertise, trying to find a Misfits record. He remembered buying two, and they were both scratched when he got home. He had been too upset to go back to the store for months. 

When he moved to New York City it had been even worse. Everyone was pretentious, and it seemed to matter more then than when he was 14. He had just started binding then, but T was a long way off. Plus he was fat. The "chubby lesbian" label probably wasn't plastered enough times over his body. 

Back in Monroeville, the old record store from his glory days had been torn down. It made him laugh a little when he found out. Racer Records was opened about two months after he moved back. The first time he went there he had bought a Black Flag record. 

"Hey, Frank," he was greeted cheerfully by the owner, Lindsey. Frank smiled back and waved. 

"Hey, Lynz." 

"Let me know if you need any help!" she called as he began to walk to the back of the store where the used boxes were. 

Frank searched through the boxes absentmindedly. He probably wasn't even going to buy anything. It wasn't like he had a ton of money to spend, and he planned on trying to buy groceries again tomorrow. That would be a personal record. Even more so if he actually ended up getting to the store. 

He heard the doorbell ring. 

"Hey, Lynz," came a soft voice. Frank looked up. A messy head of black hair and a black button up shirt. The person walked behind the counter and pulled out a card from underneath the computer desk. No-a name tag. Frank shifted to another section of records nearby so he could eavesdrop. He had never seen this person before in the store, or in town at all. 

"Oh, hey, Gerard! I'm glad you're on time. We just opened, and I'm going to need you to do some stocking for me this morning," Frank heard Lindsey. Just opened? Frank checked his watch. It was 9:00 AM. He really was losing track of time. He usually didn't get out of the house until at least 12:00. 

"Need help finding anything?" a voice that sounded distant was ringing in Frank's ears. He looked up. The stranger. Gerard.

"Mm-no, no I'm fine," he answered quickly, scratching his hair and looking down, flipping through the records in front of him quickly. 

"You a big fan of Japanese music?" 

Frank looked up. "Huh? What?" he stuttered at Gerard who was still standing in front of him, holding a cardboard box. 

"We've got a lot of it in this morning apparently. Ever heard of Shonen Knife? They were this all-girl Japanese punk band in the 90s. Toured with Nirvana. Kurt Cobain loved them." Gerard rambled, pulling a record out of the box and examining its brightly colored artwork.

"N-no I never heard of them," Frank mumbled, not looking up. 

"No? I guess you're more of a 'Alt-Jazz Fusion" type of guy, huh?" 

"What are you talking-" Frank looked up again to see Gerard staring right at him, leaning on the box they had previously been holding and had now set down on top of the bins Frank was looking in. Gerard pointed up to the sign above Frank's head. He'd forgotten why he had initially moved to a different section of the store. 

"You know I wouldn't have pegged you for the type, but hey, each to his own right?"

"No-I. I don't.." Frank struggled for words, flustered, nervous and confused he fumbled over his lips. "I was just. Looking." He turned away and walked to the punk records in the back corner of the store. 

"No need to be ashamed of what you like," Gerard followed him. Why wouldn't they leave him alone?! Frank could feel sweat forming under the warmth of his cardigan. 

Frank turned away from Gerard and looked in a different bin, not even really looking. He was blindly flipping. His anxiety was gnawing at him. 

He felt Gerard next to him, stacking titles in the bin Frank had just been looking in. It was A titles, 7 inches. He had been looking for an older Against Me! EP. He doubted they had it, and it had just been a fleeting thought in his mind to look for it. He watched Gerard from the corner of his eye, trying not to be obvious. He saw the flash of the red cover of an EP go through Gerard's hands. 

"Damn.." Frank caught himself mumble. 

Gerard turned, an eyebrow arched quizzically.

"Ah..nothing. I just. Thought I saw you stock something I had been looking for..nothing." Frank rubbed his neck. He could feel his face getting red. 

"I thought you said you didn't like Japanese music?" Gerard grinned. 

Frank blushed madly. He clenched his hands on the edge of the cardboard box in front of him. "I...thought it was something else," he muttered. 

"I'm just playing," Gerard replied. "I'm almost done, then you can look through." 

Frank nodded, staring at his knuckles. "I...um..actually better be going. I've gotta....go get groceries. You know how traffic can be.." Frank stared at his shoes, playing with his cardigan buttons as he walked away from Gerard. 

"Come back soon, Frank!" Lynz called out. Frank hardly heard her. 


	2. Chapter 2

_"Hey...can we talk about something?"_

_Adrian was outstretched in Frank's lap. A bowl of popcorn balanced on his belly and his favorite quilt was draped over his knees._

_"Sup?" he asked through teeth filled with popcorn. Frank smiled softly in spite of his nerves grinding against his brain. Adrian had warm brown eyes._

_"Um, well. It's kinda a serious thing.." Frank mumbled, playing with the long strands of Adrian's dyed black hair. He sat up, facing Frank in a criss-cross position. His playful eyes had turned solemn and thoughtful._

_"What is it, babe?"_

_Frank shifted positions. He played with his fingers. He couldn't look up because he was so nervous, but it had to be done._

_"Well..our relationship has been getting pretty serious I think..."_

_"Right. It is.."_

_"I figured it was a good time for me to tell you that I'm..." Frank trailed off. He stood up. He couldn't look Adrian in the eyes._

_"You're.....?" he prodded._

_A beat of silence._

_"I'm transgender."_

_The room was sucked empty. Even the wind blowing through the December New York streets was quiet, waiting._

_"So..wait. You mean, like, you want to be a girl?" Adrian spoke after what felt to Frank like hours._

_Frank chuckled, and turned back around to face his boyfriend._

_"Hardly. I was...assigned female at birth," he clarified._

_Adrian snapped his fingers. "But now you're not! Right?" his playful spirit coming back._

_Frank sat back down on the couch. His nerves slightly subdued. He still watched his fingers anxiously knot themselves together. He still felt his cheeks turning hot._

_"Well...that's why I wanted to talk to you about it. I'm..not really. Not by, um, normal standards anyway," his voice was quiet, almost too quiet. Maybe that was on purpose._

_Adrian's voice cut through like a knife. "What...do you mean?"_

_"It's better to just show you," Frank sighed. He unzipped his hoodie, revealing his old Descendants shirt. He wordlessly pulled the shirt over his head, revealing his black binder, tugging tight against his chest._

_"Frank..?"_

_"Kinda self-explanatory. Chest binder. It...hides my chest," he sighed, looking up to catch Adrian's furrowed eyebrows. That couldn't be good._

_"Okay. Um. Anything else crucial to our relationship that I need to know?" His tone felt bitter, stinging on Frank's bare shoulders._

_"Well. I don't have a dick."_

_All the right words escaped from the room, just like Frank wished he could do. He could hardly breathe out of fear._

_"Well. This is a lot to take in," Adrian replied. His tone had softened. It sounded lighter to Frank. Maybe it would all be okay?_

_"Yeah...I know.."_

_"But. I'm glad you told me. I still want to be with you, " Adrian continued. He was talking slowly, like he was speaking to a child. Or maybe it was just to reassure himself._

_Frank grinned. A huge, warm, happy grin. This was the same feeling he had when he came out to his high school best friend. He launched himself across the couch and embraced Adrian, pulling him into a kiss._

_"I'm so..relieved."_

_\---_

Frank woke up in a sweat. His hands were shaking, and his chest was tight, constricted, pressing against the outline of his lungs and ribcage. 

Just a dream. More like a flashback. Frank rolled over, facing the clock. 4:00 AM. He grappled for his pack of Pall Malls and his lighter. His hands felt sticky with sweat and the back of his t-shirt was soaked. He stumbled over his damp sheets and almost tripped over his clumsy feet as he ventured out into the kitchen. No sunrise yet. Only a pitch black polluted sky as the back drop to his smoke break. He considered making his coffee too; another change in his morning routine. Maybe it would actually be good for him. He had to be up in a few hours for work anyway. 

He decided that some things were best left to tradition. 

He inhaled some smoke. 

Adrian. His first _real_ relationship. He remembered deep brown eyes, hearty and charming. Jet black hair in long tresses, layered like he hadn't quite forgotten his emo phase. He was tall, with big hands that cherished Frank's small ones boldly. With an angular face and thick eyebrows, he reeled Frank in from the first night they locked eyes at a gig in the East Village.

_"I still want to be with you."_

And maybe he had. For at least a month anyway. For at least a month he stayed. It could have been longer, but Frank didn't really remember. Adrian stayed and coped. He ignored, he brushed aside, he smiled weakly. He talked less and less. Frank had to give it to him, he had tried. And that's all that mattered right? They had even had sex a few times. Sure, it was mediocre, but Frank had settled. Adrian was the first since Frank had started taking hormones. Frank had settled, because it's what had to be done. After all, it really was  _hard_ for him wasn't it? It really was hard to love a transgendered body. Frank had learned that a long time ago. 

In fact, Frank was still learning that. 

\---

At 9:00 AM, Frank pulled into work. With only one more hour of sleep after his 4 in the morning nightmare he trudged into the tattoo shop with cigarette in hand. His third one of the day so far. He was going to have to slow down with them or else he would have to take a trip to the store. Or bum some off of Ray.

"Sup, Iero!" There was Ray now, all smiles and bouncing curls. 

"Hey, man," Frank replied, far less exuberant than his co-worker.

"Damn, no sleep last night or what dude?"

"Pretty much," Frank chuckled, stamping his cigarette butt down in the green glass tray on the counter. He rounded the corner and relaxed in his office chair, setting his feet up on the desk. 

"I've got almost no appointments today. I was thinking about an early lunch. Bob told me yesterday that he wanted to go to Chipotle," Ray leaned on the counter, fluffing up his rowdy curls as he made small talk.

"Fine by me," came Frank's reply as he flipped through a tattoo magazine absentmindedly. 

A fine sheet of sunlight drifted through the parlor, drenching the leather tattooing chairs in a warm bath. Sunny in Monroeville? That was a new one. Maybe today wouldn't be as bad as yesterday. Although, Frank had grown so accustomed to dreary weather and cloud shrouded skies with the sun making quiet attempts to reveal itself that anything besides that often threw him off. That, plus the fact that his morning had been a new kind of hell, could only add up to a recipe for disaster. 

The doorbell rang, and in walked Bob. 

"How many appointments today, dude?" Ray called from across the room. 

"Two this morning I think," Bob replied, clocking in at Frank's desk. 

"Sweet!" Ray clenched a fist in triumph. "Chipotle it is, brothers!"

"Nice!" Bob reacted, walking over to set up his work station. "Hey, and I was thinking of dropping into the record store after if it's okay with you guys. Thought I'd check out that new Muse album."

"Aw man, Bob. Muse sucks," Ray chuckled that light-hearted laugh of his, turning to Frank for agreement as he lined up ink bottles. 

"Totally," Frank commented.

"Hey, fuck off for once," Bob retorted. They always liked to give him a hard time for his music choices. Frank thought it was hilarious, but something small in his stomach was churning. The thought of going to the record store again. He had already committed a month's worth of embarrassing acts in that store just yesterday. There was no way he could go there and face that Gerard character again. He watched Bob and Ray goofing off over at their artists' stations. He chuckled to himself. Maybe it wouldn't be a total trainwreck. Frank always got through social situations better when his friends were with him. His total of two friends anyway. 

"Nah, Bob, we'll go, but only if you allow me to make recommendations for you once we're there," Ray continued to poke fun.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever dipshit."

\---

"Man, that burrito **will** catch up with me around 4:00, you just wait and see."

"Ew, nasty, Ray," Frank laughed as the three guys climbed out of Ray's Trailblazer and into Racer Records.

"I'm not kidding, and Bob will be the one getting the worst of it," Ray replied, playfully punching Bob in the shoulder. 

"God, fuck you," came Bob's agitated reply. 

The group walked into the store to a NOFX song playing and, as Frank noticed, only Gerard at the counter. He gulped. 

"Let me know if you all need any help," his voice rang out, blaring loud to Frank even over the punk track enveloping the store. 

"Who's the new guy?" Bob chuckled as the group traveled to the used punk section Frank had previously inhabited the day before.

"I was in here yesterday, talked my ear off," Frank replied flippantly, trying to ease his mind by participating in the jokes. 

"No kidding, Frank. Maybe he has a crush on you!" Ray wiggled his eyebrows playfully. 

Frank blushed crimson. The store wasn't very big, and Gerard was even out from behind the counter, reorganizing CDs. "Shh!!"

"Oooh, Frank. Is there a mutual attraction?" Ray continued to prod. 

"Fuck you," Frank grumbled, turning to a record bin on his left side, where Ray wasn't. 

"I'm just playing, man." Ray shrugged Frank off. "Oh, Bob, look here's a Dead Kennedys album. You should look into them. They're a _good_ band."

"Goddamnit Ray, I know Dead Kennedys!" Bob snapped back, exasperated. 

 

_"I'm just playing. I'm almost done, then you can look through."_

 

Gerard's voice rang through Frank's head like a bell. The Against Me! EP he wanted! He had even forgotten what had caused him to embarrass himself so much the day before.

"Move over, Ray, will you? I need to look for something," Frank pushed past Bob and stood next to Ray who was reading through the A titles. Actually, Frank would venture to guess he wasn't even reading. He was just looking at the artwork. 

"Damn, okay. I think I need a smoke anyway. Wanna join, Bob?"

"Hey, wait, no. I'm not mad I just needed you to scoot over-"

"Shhh..." Ray quieted Frank, and nudged his head over to Gerard who was still stocking CDs. Ray winked at Frank with a cigarette playfully falling from his lip. 

"C'mon, Bob!" Ray loudly exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his neck as he signaled their departure. 

Frank gulped, fear creeping up on him as he turned back to the box in front of him. No big deal. Find the title. Grab it. Pay for it. Don't make eye contact. Leave with Ray and Bob. Fuck Bob's Muse record. Frank wasn't coming back in here for at least two months now. 

"Did you get that grocery shopping done?"

_Shit._

Frank pretended to not remember. "Huh? What? Oh. Yeah, wasn't a very big grocery run this time around."

Gerard was walking over towards him, still carrying some CDs in their hands. 

"Still looking for that title from yesterday?" Gerard asked. Striped sweater today, black and white. With black skinny jeans and white Chuck Taylor's. They had designs on the toes. 

"Oh, um, yeah," Frank fumbled, staring at Gerard's shoes rather absently as he flipped slowly through the albums. 

"What was the band name? Maybe I can remember it," Gerard stepped closer, almost touching Frank's back now. He really shouldn't wear his cardigan to this store ever again. 

"Against Me," Frank replied, his fingers halting on the plastic sleeve of one 7-inch as he registered the closeness of Gerard's body to his. 

"Hmmm...I think I recognize the name. Should be there. Excuse me..." They reached across Frank's chest to skim the bin he had just been flipping through. Gerard smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, with a barely detectable hint of cigarette smoke hidden beneath. Frank felt anxiety constrict his chest like it did earlier that the morning. He wanted to flee the store as fast as his short legs could take him. 

"Well, damn. I guess I sold it? I sure don't recall anyone buying it though. Maybe Lindsey was the one who cashed them out," Gerard leaned back, freeing Frank from the torturous confines of warm, spicy vanilla. 

"I-it's fine," Frank replied, his voice breathy.

"I'll tell you what, you seem like a regular customer in here, so I'll put in a special order for it. We can call you when it comes in."

Frank took a few steps back from Gerard, trying to let his mind reorganize itself. "Um..I don't know. It's really not that big of a deal to me.."

"I insist. I'll even throw in a discount for your trouble," Gerard had already began walking behind the counter. 

"You know, some people would consider this customer service a little pushy," Frank blurted.

"And are you 'some people,' ?" Gerard cleverly shot back. Frank blushed. 

"Definitely not."

"Good. Name and number please," Gerard held out a pen and small sheet of notepad paper with a cheery smile.

 

Frank Iero 

609-345-863

Against Me! The Disco Before The Breakdown 7-inch EP

 

"Frank Iero. Expect a call from me within two weeks. A pleasure doing business."

"Yeah, thanks," Frank said quietly. He laid the pen back down in the holder on the counter, and his gaze accidentally locked with Gerard's. A light brown, buttery hazel looked back, glinting in the New Jersey sun. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow im having so much fun with this story. It is pretty fluffy right now, I'll admit, but I have a feeling I'll be getting into the angst eventually. I have a tendency to sway towards the darker side of fic lol. Also I figured I'd make a note about the pronouns I'm using for Gerard. Frank uses "they/them" when referencing Gerard because he's trans and therefore tries to exercise not assuming someone's gender. Ray and Bob, however, are cis and aren't accustomed to the idea of that. I don't know yet if I'm gonna make Frank be out to them yet..or if he's gonna eventually come out. Like I said..not sure where this story is going I'm just having a good time. Also-for anyone also reading my Arctic Monkeys story Secret Door...school is over for me this week so I'm planning on an update sometime this weekend. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :)


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn't do it. He couldn't, and he wasn't going to do it. No way in hell. Frank stared at his cellphone in his hand, like a ticking time bomb. The screen was an ominous and silent black, threatening Frank's mind with warnings of what was to come if he unlocked it and took the plunge.

He couldn't do it. 

There had been a call earlier that morning. An unknown number. Frank's heart had pounded relentlessly in his chest at the jumble of numbers on the screen. He had let it go to voicemail. He had turned his phone off completely and went to work. 

Now, he was home from work, and the small red notification blinded him every time he opened his phone. He had to at least listen to the message, if only to get the icon to go away. 

 _"Frank Iero! Hey, it's me Gerard Way. Gerard, from Racer Records. Sorry. I-uh, have your order in. That's why I called! Sorry if I caught you at a bad time! You can come in and pick it up today anytime you want. See you soon!"_ Click.

Frank gulped. He couldn't do it. Should he call back to set up a time to come in? Or should he just go in? It didn't matter because he couldn't do either of those things and he knew it. He knew he couldn't. He sank down in his living room couch and hung his head in his hands. He heard his stomach grumble painfully, and he could feel exhausted tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He had only gotten two hours of sleep that night, and only a granola bar for breakfast. He had felt too down to go out and eat with Ray and Bob at work, so he had lied and told them he had stuff at home. He had rotting fruit at home. He had one more stale granola bar at home. He needed the granola bar for breakfast tomorrow. Frank felt his shoulders shake as he broke down even more with each passing thought. He couldn't do _anything._ What a fucking wreck. 

He looked down at his phone screen, still dark and heavy in his hand. He couldn't do it, but he had to. He had to prove to himself that he could get at least something done. No matter if it made him feel any better or not, he had to do it. 

He grabbed his keys off the counter before he second guessed himself. 

 

\--------

 

"Hello, welcome to Racer Records!" Gerard's cheery voice called out as the doorbell rang, signaling Frank's entrance. 

"Uh, hey," Frank mumbled, looking down at his ripped Vans as he approached the counter. 

"Hey!" Gerard exclaimed, a smile lighting up their face. They looked Frank right in the eyes, or at least they tried to. Frank averted his gaze as much as he could. "I was wondering when you would come by today!"

"Yeah...I had work so..you know," Frank struggled to form a sentence, rubbing the back of his neck and looking up at Gerard with flitting, nervous eyes.

"Hey, no big deal. We've all been there," Gerard chuckled, reaching under the counter and disappearing for a second. 

They bounced up from behind the counter, holding Frank's Against Me! EP triumphantly. "Here it is! I have to say, I've never listened to it. I've only heard one album by them." 

Frank's eyes brightened at that. "W-which one?" he asked.

"Transgender Dysphoria Blues. It's fucking great!" Gerard said as they rung up the record and bagged it for Frank.

"That's my favorite, personally," Frank managed to flash a smile. His nerves were slowly simmering beneath the surface now, ready to pop up again in seconds.

"Oh yeah? I'll have to check out their other stuff sometime," Gerard commented. "That'll be $8.99, by the way."

"Oh-yeah, right," Frank clumsily dug in his pockets for the wad of cash he had shoved in there before he left the house that morning. He struggled with unfolding the bills from where they clumped together, and managed to drop some pennies as he did it. He felt his face flush red with embarrassment. 

"Fuck," he muttered as he bent down to pick them up off the floor. 

"Ever think about buying a wallet?" Gerard chuckled, leaning over the edge of the counter to watch Frank.

Frank smiled sheepishly and stood up, handing Gerard a crumpled up $10 bill. "I was in a rush this morning," he lied. He didn't actually know why he never carried his wallet. He was probably just too lazy.

"Well you never know when you might need your ID," Gerard said, opening the register and handing Frank his change back.

"There you go. There's your change. Thanks for coming in," they smiled at Frank warmly. It made him nervous.

"Right, yeah. Thanks for ordering it..and everything," he tried to sound sincere. 

"Sure thing!" Gerard grinned, leaning their elbow on the counter with their head in their hand. Frank looked over his shoulder, waving as he left. He almost bumped into the door like an idiot. He blushed faintly, again. 

"Hey, Frank?" Gerard stopped him before he made it all the way out the door. 

"Y-yeah?" 

"We close in like, 5 minutes. Do you maybe want to get a cup of coffee with me?" 

Frank froze in the doorway. A cup of coffee? Why? Why him, why Frank, why now? Was this a date? Were they just being friendly? Frank's nerves exploded under his skin, and he couldn't find words. 

"I-um, what?" he blurted out, still standing in the open door. 

"Cup of coffee? I was heading there, and I don't know. You seem tired. I'll buy?" Gerard offered.

Now they wanted to buy it too? Frank was sweating, even in his t-shirt and shorts. He gripped to his plastic bag fiercely. He couldn't do it.

Gerard was walking out from behind the counter and coming towards Frank. Oh, god. Loose black shirt, tight dark jeans, stylish leather boots. Frank gulped down the millions of emotions he was feeling. 

"I...." his mouth was dry. Gerard smelled so much like vanilla. 

"You don't have to you know," they chuckled softly, leaning against the doorframe. 

"No, it's just-" Frank struggled.

"Just what?" Gerard raised a thick, arching brow.

"Nothing..."

"So you'll go?"

Frank gulped, and found himself agreeing to a pair gleaming hazel eyes.

 

\--------

 

The walk to the Starbucks just down the street was excruciating. Frank was expecting the always talkative Gerard to babble along endlessly the whole way, asking questions about Frank's personal life that would make him sweat and stammer and trip over his own feet. Gerard didn't say a word, though, and that was almost worse. Frank was left in his own brain, analyzing the situation from every angle that his nervous mind could, and watching everything that could go wrong play out in vivid images behind his eyes. He watched Gerard out of the corner of his vision. They seemed to saunter gracefully and confidently down the street, with a pair of glamorous sunglasses gracing their delicate features. Frank suddenly felt very plain, very boring, in his old red t-shirt that he wasn't sure had been washed recently and his jean shorts with a mysterious stain on the left pocket.

Gerard held the door to the coffee shop open for him. "After you," they flashed a charming smirk. Frank's cheeks went warm.

Frank stared at the floor as he walked in, already feeling the pinpricks of eyes on him. Or the eyes he imagined were on him. He hated coffee shops. He always fucked up when he tried to order and wanted to die of embarrassment. He gulped, looking up at the menu and chewing his lip nervously. 

"Looks like it's really crowded in here. Why don't you go and find us a table to sit at, and I can order for us?" Gerard's smooth voice interrupted Frank's frantic thoughts.

"I-um. L-let me give you some money..." Frank trailed off, watching Gerard tip up their sunglasses on their forehead, staring at Frank as he spoke. 

"I said I'd buy, remember?" Gerard smiled. "Now what do you want?"

"I-I guess just a vanilla iced coffee. Grande is fine.." he slowly averted his gaze from Gerard's, staring at his shoes for the millionth time that day. "I'll go find a table," he muttered, turning and walking towards the back of the store. There were so many people. He felt like he was suffocating as he meandered through the chattering crowd, trying to find a lone table far away from the noise. He eventually found a small table tucked back behind a wall in a cozy corner towards the back of the store. He sighed with relief, sitting down and placing his bag next to him. He heard the bag fall onto the floor and cursed himself. He should've just put it in his car. He was so stupid. He picked the bag up and laid it on the other side of his legs, up against the wall. He sighed out, laying his arms down on the tabletop and resting his chin on them. He wondered if Gerard would even be able to find this spot. 

Soon enough, Frank saw them rounding the corner carrying two drinks. 

"Cute," Gerard smirked, sitting down. Frank immediately straightened up his position, and flushed, looking down at the cup in front of him.

Gerard seemed to ignore it. "I can't believe you found this table. I love sitting here. You have a perfect view of everyone else, but almost no one can see you. Perfect for people watching." 

Frank just nodded, and sipped his coffee, thankful that he had the drink to keep him occupied. Gerard opened their mouth to say something else, but evidently thought better of it, taking a drink of their own coffee instead. Frank wished he could go home more than anything else in the world. 

After a few more moments of suffocating silence, Gerard spoke again, placing their coffee down with a sigh. "Look, Frank, I'm sorry if asking you to come was awkward or something. You didn't have to. I just..I'm new in town if you didn't already know...only been here a couple weeks...I've just been trying to meet people...make friends and shit. I only really talk to Lindsey, and she's mostly my boss so.." they rambled sheepishly and Frank bit his lip, feeling a rush of guilt. 

"No, it's okay. I, um, well I don't get out much, is the thing. I was just surprised that's all.." Frank concentrated on swirling his straw around in his cup. 

Gerard just gave a warm grin and looked down into their drink again. Frank's fingers twitched. He needed a cigarette. He felt bad for Gerard in a way. Frank was the worst company Gerard could have picked and now they were probably feeling embarrassed of their own actions when it was really Frank's fault. He dug his cigarette pack out of his shorts.

"You smoke?" he asked, pulling one out. He certainly ran the risk of Gerard being vehemently against smoking and then looking like a disgusting lowlife in their eyes, but whatever. It's not like Frank was gonna argue that he wasn't one. 

Gerard's eyes lit up. "Yeah, dude," they said, rising up from the table. Frank stumbled awkwardly from his chair. Why couldn't he fucking do the simplest of things? He grabbed his bag with his record in it, and the two of them walked outside.

Frank offered a smoke to Gerard first, and handed them his own lighter. It was his favorite Zippo lighter designed to look like a gruesome zombie. He had ordered it online in a moment of weakness, and drunkenness, one night about a month ago. 

"Holy shit. This is the coolest thing I've ever seen!" Gerard exclaimed, lighting their cigarette quickly and then turning the lighter over in their hand, examining it intently. "Did you make this?" they looked up at Frank, a light shining in their eyes.

Frank rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and grinned, a little embarrassed. "Nah, I ordered it online..." he left out the part about being drunk, and the part about how he had used all the money left in his bank account at the time to purchase it. 

"Oh shit, I want one! You're gonna have to send me the link to the site or something.." they were still turning the small object over and over in their hand, seeming to be memorizing every detail of the creation. 

"Uhh, yeah," Frank mumbled, thinking about how he didn't even have Gerard's number, and how he was too shy to mention it anyway. "Can I-can I have it back? To light my own.."

"Yeah! Oh-sorry. I get distracted easily," they blushed a soft pink and handed the lighter back to Frank. Frank didn't say anything. He just lit his cigarette and nodded, looking up at the sky turning from a pale blue to a light, smoky gray. 

"I love zombie movies. I always have. Dawn of the Dead is one of my favorite movies ever," Gerard went on, talking with their hands and smiling excitedly now. Frank smiled. He hadn't actually watched a lot of zombie movies in his time. He sometimes watched The Walking Dead, though.

"Yeah, I like The Walking Dead. You ever watch it?" Frank tried awkwardly to make conversation for Gerard's benefit.

"Yeah, it's alright...nothing beats the old classics though, you know? Stuff was so like, naive, back then...nowadays all these big productions companies just try too hard...you know what I mean?" Gerard was still talking with their hands, throwing different gestures with their cigarette bouncing ash onto the sidewalk.

Frank shook his head and smirked to himself. "Totally," he agreed, flicking his cigarette butt down and smashing into it with his shoe. 

 

\--------

 

Frank sat alone in the dark on the couch with a large pizza box sprawled across his lap. The room smelled pleasantly of weed and pepperonis. Frank always had a rush of confidence when he was high. Thankfully, or else he would have been absolutely starving with the amount of marijuana he had consumed so far. Frank took another hit off his joint and coughed, almost sending the half of a pizza that he had left flying across the room. 

"Fuck," he muttered. Some movie was playing quietly in the background. He squinted at the TV to see what it was. He was _really_ high for the first time in a long time. He struggled with the remote that sat next to him on the arm of the couch. He clicked to see the TV guide pop up. The highlighted program read "Dawn of the Dead (1978)". Frank chuckled at that. His phone suddenly rang, almost scaring him to death. He dug his hand down into his shorts pocket and clumsily pulled it out. Unknown number. Frank didn't really think twice before answering. 

"Hi..?" he asked.

"Hey, Frank? You sound weird," there was a familiar voice and a light chuckle on the other line. 

"Gerard? Hey Gerard! Guess what's on TV right now," Frank giggled, looking over at the screen.

"Umm..I don't know? Frank, are you high?" 

"Fuck yeah, I am," Frank laughed, completely forgetting about his previous statement. 

"So...what's on TV right now?" Gerard asked as Frank sat silent on the other end of the line.

"Oh! Ummmmm, I forget what it's called. That movie you like...something about zombies or whatever," Frank mumbled, taking another hit. 

"Dawn of the Dead?"

"Yeah! Yeah, that's it. I'm not really watching it though. Kinda busy," Frank replied. 

"I don't think I've ever heard you talk more in the short time I've known you than right now," Gerard chuckled warmly. 

"Mmmm..." Frank made a noncommittal response lazily. 

"Anyway, I called because I wanted to ask you about the website you got that lighter from. I mean....I guess I could have texted instead, huh? Sorry about that." Gerard sounded uncharacteristically embarrassed and shy.

"I can find the link and send it. It's good that you called. I didn't know your number anyway. And I was too scared to ask," Frank rambled. 

"You shouldn't have been. I'm the creep who got your number from you placing the order at the shop," they laughed uncomfortably. 

"It's whatever," Frank mumbled, absorbed in his weed at the moment. 

"Cool," he heard Gerard smile. "Just..text me the website whenever you can."

"I will! But hey, Gerard, I'm _so_ fucking high right now and I'll probably forget so you might have to text me first to remind me. Especially because I'll probably also forget that this is your number," Frank giggled in that annoying high-pitched way of his that he hated. 

"Sure thing, Frank," Gerard said on the other end. "Talk to you soon."

"Yeah, you will," Frank said back softly, looking absently at the TV screen, his vision filling with splatters of sticky, slimy, bright red blood.

"This movie is awesome by the way."

Gerard laughed. "Oh, I know."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter here I suppose. I feel so guilty for not updating in forever! I love this story and the way it's coming along so don't worry: I'm not abandoning it! :) Please comment I love to know how I'm doing.


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